


seven heavenly virtues that we consider and then dismiss

by killbot2000



Category: Far Cry New Dawn
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers, brief implication of torture, in this house we kick the corpse of joseph seed off the dam, lol, uhh that’s it really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 13:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17981825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killbot2000/pseuds/killbot2000
Summary: captain reyes is curious about the sad excuse of a new edener she keeps in her company.





	seven heavenly virtues that we consider and then dismiss

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t proofread this whoooooohooooooo sorry everyone. Also fuckin ao3 didn’t translate my copy paste italics and i can’t be bothered to fix it. The capitalized sentences were supposed to be italicized, just use your imagination. 
> 
> Hey, thanks for reading, I appreciate the time

No matter what you do, no matter what choices you make or path you take, you will be judged. And your sentence will always be the same. 

the first night the judge stayed outside the community gates. the night was cold, as all nights now were, and the captain, captain reyes, a harsh and calloused woman barely scraping her twenties, held back her displeasure through crooked and gritted teeth. 

“don’t worry about them. the less peggies we have to worry about the better.” kim told her over the firelight. “i don't like having one inside our walls anyways.” 

the captain shook her head, “it’s not like i can argue. i just don’t get it. the savior joseph tells me i’m part of some god’s plan, leaves it at that, and gives me a companion who won’t speak a word of their own. what does that say about joseph?” 

“says he’s full of shit. always has been, always will be.” 

“did people believe him back then? when they had something to lose?” 

“the thing is,” kim looked up at reyes, the memories of the old world so clear in her eyes that reyes could nearly see them herself, “their world had already ended. this is just the aftermath.” 

the second night the judge wandered into nick’s car garage. nick himself slept in the house away from the unwelcome guest, but reyes found herself awake in the tender morning hours on the lawns of prosperity. kim told her it had once been a ranch belonging to the savior’s brother. the judge sat cross-legged on the concrete, dragging their gloved fingers through the dust and oil. 

“can’t sleep?” 

the judge looked up. reyes could read nothing on the blank white mask, but she had startled them, pulling them from a memory of before the collapse. it was a good memory, the one greeting the rye family for the first time after the birth of their daughter. the deputy’s goddaughter. it seemed pointless to use a theology so bastardized by the cult, but the deputy had felt nothing but love. love now eaten away at by shame. what kind of world was this for a child? 

the judge shook their head and looked up at reyes. the black eyes of the mask gave nothing away. she sat down across from the judge on the cold stone ground and set her chin on her knuckles. 

“is it that you can’t talk or choose not to?” 

hesitantly, they shook their head slowly. mechanically, like the motion hurt. barely a sound save for a cautious breath. their hand barely hovered over the spot a mouth would be on the blank wooden mask. 

“that joseph?” reyes wasn’t a sympathetic woman. she felt no emotion for the goodness that the father had supposedly built from the rubble of the old world. and she’d been told by few that joseph was the cause behind all this. all this death in the name of goodness, of being saved. reyes wanted nothing to do with his god. “your father?” 

this time the judge nodded. a single motion and nothing more. reyes nodded to herself, understanding. she rose. 

“c’mon. you can see the sunrise from the east wall.” she held a hand out and the judge got to their feet. 

Look at your pride, now. You let it consume you until the world destroyed itself around you. You will know nothing but humility from this moment on. No one will know your face again, no one will recognize you for what you’ve done. 

the sunrise brought color into the valley like the hand of god. 

the third night, reyes slept out in the garage. she didn’t know if the judge ever slept at nighttime or if they slept at all, but she felt responsible for watching them. she was the one who reached out to the new edeners, and she was responsible for keeping the peace. 

but away from her own people, after the death of rush, it was comforting to be with someone else who didn’t belong. maybe once upon a time, there was someone else who’d helped the people of prosperity before the collapse. someone free of the guilt of death. but now it was just the outsiders. 

reyes let herself drift between consciousness and unconsciousness. sleep lapped at her eyes like the small waves of the lake, but she watched the ranch through them. the house lights were off, but the stars and strung lights still glowed. the judge wheezed and coughed and came and settled down beside her. they didn’t touch, and the judge made no other movement, but reyes got a warm feeling of pride, letting her know that somewhere, deep down, she might’ve gotten under that mask and into the person wearing it. 

the judge was old, old for this world. they lived before the collapse, really lived, and had a history with all of hope county. what exactly the nature of this history was, reyes could only hear in whispers shared between the others who’d lived full lives before the collapse. 

on the fourth night, the captain set a hand on the shoulder of her companion. they kept their mask downcast, and reyes couldn’t do anything to ensure she had their attention. 

Look at this. The flames of your Wrath have destroyed God’s good earth. God’s creations. Have you turned against your Maker? Have you turned against your Father? 

the judge let out a soft sigh, nervously scratching along the back of their neck. reyes patted their shoulder once more and leaned back against the garage wall. 

“you know, there’s an extra mattress where i sleep. as long as you aren’t being creepy i’m sure people won’t mind. it’s warmer inside.” 

they looked at her for a moment, then shook their head. the judge rose and left the walls. 

the fifth night reyes spent by herself in the freezing garage. she crawled into one of the cars that nick had been fixing in his free time, and fell asleep in the back seat. she woke to the sound of the car door being opened and a sliding sound on the vinyl seat. 

the judge stared at her as she woke to see the source of the noise. they made no motion to communicate with her, and only sat on the seat next to her, resting a hand on her extended ankle. 

“i don’t know what joseph did to you.” reyes kept her eyes closed, talking up to the roof of the car, “but people’ve told me who you used to be.” no response. 

“and i know you probably don’t want to talk about it,” she laughed to herself, “but we’re the same, you and me.” 

quiet grunt of agreement. a gentle tap on the ankle of fingers in soft leather. reyes wondered if this world would ever go back to what it once was. or if it, like the judge, was broken beyond repair, only capable of being a shell of its former self, held together by scavengers and stubborn life.

“people are scared of you and your people. they don’t understand it. this gift you’ve given me… i don’t think i understand it.” 

she stared ahead at the seats in front of them. the garage was nearly black and she couldn’t see outside the car’s windows. 

“there’s a lot i don’t understand. your father has put a lot of faith in me.” 

the deputy, as expected, did nothing to ease her uncertainty. 

the sixth night was spent halfway between prosperity and new eden. reyes drove the car carefully into the forest under a cliff and locked the doors with the two inside. 

they both sat in the back seat with slightly more room to stretch their legs. reyes still didn’t know if the judge slept or not, but she still listened to their soft breathing throughout the night. 

“i miss rush.” she said, into the dark. into whatever it was listening. “i miss home, but i know home doesn’t exist anymore. i’m glad i don’t remember the old world because i’d miss that too. and i’d miss you. whoever you used to be.” 

You deserve this. This hell you’ve created. You’ve brought us our Collapse, and we’ll bring you the forgiveness you deserve. If that day ever comes. 

the seventh night met them on the broken dam, under eden’s tree. the false prophet joseph begged for release from this world that he’d created. reyes could not feel the pain that he had brought to so many in hope county, could not feel the torture that he brought down on the deputy so that they may atone for their sins. but she could feel the blood on her hands. mickey and lou and ethan and everyone else she couldn’t remember, and wouldn’t she want an easy way out when the time came?

she could grant him an easy way out. the judge looked on, nothing given away, nothing implied. the end was swift for him, too swift and merciful but it was the best she could provide. 

there were cries from the deputy, soft and muffled, but reyes stood in front of them, hands out and unsure. finally she took them by the shoulders and into a hug that might offer some kind of comfort in all their troubles. 

“shhh, don’t cry, now. it’s over.”


End file.
